


Of Sparkles and Fedoras

by knitsforthetrail



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Babysitting, Canon Compliant, Comedy, Fedora, I don't know, Pink - Freeform, Sparkles, Tags Are Hard, Yakov is left babysitting their daughter, in the future, involves horrible fashion choices, yakov thinks fedoras are the height of hat fashion, yuuri and victor travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11099949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knitsforthetrail/pseuds/knitsforthetrail
Summary: 'not ten minutes in, a little voice piped up from the back.“Uncle Yakov, where are we going?”“We are going to my house. You are staying with me until your parents return Monday.” Yakov grumbled, and returned his attention to the jazz drifting from the speakers, but it seemed Aiko was not done.“Where is your house?” So, she was one of THOSE children.'Or, Victor and Yuuri are out of town for the weekend, and it falls on Yakov to babysit their young daughter.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first piece of writing I have shared with anyone. I did proofread it, but if you find any mistakes please let me know and I will fix them.  
> I apologize in advance if I accidentally switch between Victor and Viktor. I tried to fix them all, but whatever :p  
> Also, I did try to look up actual places in Saint Petersburg(I never thought my search history would be full of russian children stores), and I tried to use actual clothing/food/restaurants and such, but I am sorry if any of it is inaccurate(almost a guarantee tbh).

A dreary Saturday afternoon found Yakov waiting in his car, a pink sparkly gear bag in the passenger seat and a beat-up car seat in the back. He looked on in relative discomfort as the family gave their tearful goodbyes. Victor and Yuuri were only going to be gone for the weekend, but they always were an emotional bunch and hadn’t liked the thought of leaving Aiko with a stranger for a few nights (‘but she’s been babysitting Aiko since she started walking, Vitya!’ ‘I don’t know Yuuri, how well do we REALLY know her?’), and that’s where Yakov came in. As the only RESPONSIBLE adult they knew in Russia, Victor begged him to watch their kid for the weekend. With no other options, Yakov grudgingly agreed. Yuuri had given him a routine to follow, covering meal and bed time, what book to read at night, and other such things. He had skimmed over it once, then set it aside to get lost in the clutter on his desk. Watching a child for the weekend couldn’t be too hard, Yakov was a responsible adult damn it, and he didn’t need written instructions like some first-time high school babysitter.

Aiko hopped into her car seat and the door slammed behind her. Yakov promised again to regularly update the worrying parents, and waved as Victor and Yuuri turned towards the baggage check-in, then pulled away from the curb. They drove on in silence for a while, and Yakov began to think perhaps the weekend would not be so bad. Unfortunately, it was not to be, and not ten minutes in, a little voice piped up from the back.

“Uncle Yakov, where are we going?”

“We are going to my house. You are staying with me until your parents return Monday.” Yakov grumbled, and returned his attention to the jazz drifting from the speakers, but it seemed Aiko was not done.

“Where is your house?” So, she was one of THOSE children.

“I live by the skate rink.”

“How far is that?”

“Not very,” Huffed Yakov, quickly tiring of the pointless questions. Aiko was silent for a minute, and Yakov tried to focus back on the road.

As they were nearing a stoplight, Aiko piped up again, “How old are you?” Yakov slammed on the brakes a bit harder than necessary and let out an undignified sound. “I mean, your hair is the same as daddy’s, but your face is wrinkly like grandma’s. Papa said I shouldn’t ask. He said it was rude. So I asked daddy and he said you were a hundred thousand! But I know that’s a lie, I know you can only be, like, a thousand years old, so…” Yakov wisely tuned out. Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

…

The door to the apartment swung open and hit the wall, the loud crash echoing through the otherwise silent quarters. Aiko skipped in, followed closely by a disgruntled Yakov hauling a deceptively small suitcase. If Yakov had learned anything, it was that 1) size didn’t mean anything, 2) Victor was especially skilled at stuffing inhuman amounts of clothing into travel-size bags, and 3) Katsuki was very deceptively strong to have been able to load it into the trunk earlier with no difficulties at all. He set the offending pink bag on the floor by the door and took one last look at his apartment as it had been before Victor’s child would undoubtedly disrupt the orderly rooms.

“Uncle Yakov,” a voice called from the bathroom down the hall, “What does this do?” A concerning buzzing sound abruptly started and Aiko broke into giggles. He raced down the hall with a speed he should have left behind in his early 50’s, and snatched an electric razor out of the child’s hands.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING” Yakov bellowed, waving the offending object around his head, “YOU COULD’VE BEEN HURT! WHAT would I have told your PARENTS if they had to pick you up from the HOSPITAL!” He glared down at the small child cowering by the toilet, tears in her eyes, and let out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. This was my fault. Follow me, I’ll show you to your room,” thankfully It looked like Aiko was not going to cry anymore, and, crisis averted, Yakov placed the razor on the top shelf of the cupboard. He would have to take this whole child-proofing more seriously when he got the chance.

Aiko would be staying in the guest bedroom, located at the end of the hall. Yakov retrieved the luggage from the door, then motioned the girl into the room. He sat the bag at the foot of the bed, pointedly ignoring the sad look on Aiko’s face. He stood in the doorway for a minute as Aiko sat on the bed, trying to find something to say, then gave up and let the girl be with a gruff “Ask if you need anything”, and retreated to the kitchen.

Soon enough the tension in the apartment abated and sounds of play were echoing quietly from the other end of the hall. Yakov was busy going over notes for the routines he would be choreographing in the upcoming season, and lost track of time. Before he could get any ‘real’ work done, dinner time had swung around, heralding a hungry little girl creeping into the kitchen like the little gremlin her idiot father probably trained her to be. She quietly snuck up behind the balding man at the counter, and when she was as close as she could get, Aiko threw her arms around Yakov’s waist and shrieked, “Gotcha!” Yakov definitely did not make any undignified noises (he did), and he for sure did not jump three inches off the barstool (beat Vitya’s record).

After catching his breath Yakov whipped around to lecture the girl, but Aiko had already wandered away to the cupboards by the stove, searching among the shelves for something edible [not bloody likely in the silverware drawer, seriously Victor what are you teaching the poor thing]. He made a mental list of all the food in his house and concluded that they would be eating out. Yakov would never hear the end of it if he let Victor’s child live off saltines and old pepperoni sticks for the weekend. “Aiko go get dressed nicely. I will take you to a decent restaurant if you behave. We leave in fifteen minutes.” The little girl nodded once and dashed down the hall, already comfortable in the old flat.

Yakov cleaned up his work and went to his room to dress up. Fortunately, none of the elder skaters would be coming along to tease him about his fashion sense (of course I changed, Yura, this is my nice scarf and formal fedora). With one last nod to his mirror reflection, he went to the guest room, and as he looked through the door his words caught in his throat. A waist-high tornado of electric pink had filled the bottom half of the room, with the occasional blue thrown in here and there. Gaudy streamers hung between every surface reachable by a small child, and blankets were draped here and there with no obvious purpose. The source of the blinding sparkles appeared to be a few round plastic containers, and Victor had lived in Yakov’s house long enough to know they had once been filled with finite glitter, the kind that never went away. Aiko must have thrown handfuls of the offending stuff all over to achieve the blinding brightness on every surface. Speaking of the little girl, she was standing in the middle of the whole mess, looking at the stupefied Yakov with slight concern and a whole lot of pride. She was also wearing the most god-awful dress imaginable.

It was pale pink, reminiscent of a ballerina tutu covered in fake rose petals, which would not have been bad if not for the horrifying hot magenta feathers and painfully fake orange sunflowers decorating the bottom half of the thing. Not even the worst of Victor’s ‘creative expressions in clothing’ had ever resulted in such a piece. The shades of pink didn’t even remotely match, one being more orange-toned and the other leaning towards blue and purple! Whoever designed the hideous thing should be fired. The whole scene was too much for his old man brain to handle, which had focused on the most unbelievable thing in the room (not even a single sparkle on the girl! How did she manage that?! Even the ceiling looks like it’s speckled with light and she’s barely able to reach the dresser!), leaving the two inhabitants of the flat staring at one another in silence. Aiko was the one to break the spell, cautiously approaching Yakov and tugging on his hand, softly asking “Ready to go?” and warily peering up into his shocked face, jerking him back to the present.

With one last look at the room Yakov spun on his heels and motioned for Aiko to follow him to the car. Last-minute thinking had Yakov pulling one of his old sweaters over the little girl’s head, only a few feathers visible under the fabric. He scooped the girl up into her car seat then went to the driver’s side and started the car. Aiko remained silent, not quite sure why Yakov was red in the face and muttering incoherently. They quickly arrived at the Pulkovo outlet village, and Yakov sat her on a bench before entering Kid’s Palace. He tore through the shop, whipped some clothes off their hangers, and quickly checked out, glaring at more than a few of the employees on his way. He retrieved Aiko, ushered her into a bathroom stall, and silently commanded her to change into the new garments.

When she emerged, Aiko was dressed in a smart outfit, with black dress slacks, and a navy sweater with a white button-down underneath. Give her 20 years or so and she would look like a proper businesswoman. Yakov took the old dress from her and shoved it in the nearest garbage, making a note to inform her parents that the dress ‘got lost’ and ‘would get returned when he found it’. Like her parents, Aiko was very good at embracing the mood of an outfit, and had adopted an authoritative air to her small frame. It would be quite off-putting to those they encountered later that night, though neither would notice it. The two looked at each other; Yakov nodded his approval at the new attire, and Aiko nodded because Yakov was nodding. The sweater was stuffed into the trunk and they returned to the car. Yakov chauffeured them to their dinner stop for the night: Palkin.

Way back when Victor was still blissfully nonexistent, Yakov still had hair, and the restaurant was still trying to get a start in Saint Petersburg, Yakov had made a reservation for a quick business meeting with a sponsor for a skater lost to the void of time, and promptly fell in love with the place. He became a regular, was drinking buddies with the owner, and all the employees were on a first-name basis with him. When Yakov got wind the restaurant was struggling financially, soon to be shut down, he bought out the restaurant. He gave operation of the restaurant back to his friend, fully supported by his personal wealth on the one condition that his favorite table always be kept open for him.

Present day, Yakov and Aiko found themselves sitting in front of a large window at an elegant table next to a painting of a nearly naked angel reclining against a tree. Purple drapes clashed with the red seat cushions and overall golden decorations to create a stunningly extravagant room. The window looked out on the beautiful city they were in, and the evening sunlight cast the whole scene in a golden glow. Yakov was admiring the view, while Aiko furiously scribbled on a napkin, the only suitable material the restaurant had available last-minute for drawing (after enduring Yakov’s judging glare, and a surprisingly cold look from his young escort, Palkin would begin to store sheets of paper in the reception area for other aspiring artists). Whenever Yakov looked over at Aiko’s work, she would hide it under her arms and glare(that would have made Yura proud) until he turned away.

The wait for food was long, but not excessively so. As the first dishes arrived, Aiko declared her masterpiece to be finished and presented it to Yakov with a mischievous grin on her face. The drawing consisted of two figures, both wearing bright pink dresses. The taller of the two sported a black fedora, and had a somewhat constipated look on their face. The two were holding hands in what may have been an ice rink, but could also possibly be a public bathroom. In the background, two figures stood on either side of a fluffy circle, presumably Victor, Yuuri and Makkachin. Yakov grunted and shoved the napkin into his pocket (later it would get framed and hung up in an honored spot among his prestigious art collection).

The meal was up to the usual standards, consisting of Shchi soup, Hare’s cutlets with foie gras and black truffles, Breast of Duck baked in maple syrup and Fried fillet of sea bream with basil soup. Yakov nursed an alcoholic beverage* while Aiko sipped at a strawberry lemonade. When they were finished with their meals, the leftovers were boxed up and Yakov held a polite conversation with the chef that night, before the two headed out to the car. On the ride home Aiko fell asleep in her car seat, the long day finally catching up to her. Once at home, Yakov carried her to bed and returned to the living room to catch the late-night news.

At half-past-eleven Yakov shot upright, remembering that he had forgotten to update Victor and Yuuri. A glance at his phone confirmed his fears, showing over a dozen missed calls and increasingly panicked messages from Yuuri. He sighed, ran his hand over his face, then hit the call button. Victor answered on the first ring, and Yakov barely got in an apologetic “Vitya,” before Yuuri’s frantic voice cut through, “Yakov? Is that you? Oh, thank god! We were so worried when you didn’t pick up! Is everything fine?”

Yakov sighed, feeling more than a little bad about being responsible for Yuuri’s anxiousness, “Yes, everything is fine. After Aiko got settled we went out to eat. She is asleep now. I apologize for not contacting you sooner. It was a failure on my account.” He didn’t miss the shaky sigh that escaped the other man, and felt his guilt double. Victor took the phone back, thanking Yakov again for watching Aiko and sternly insisting on regular updates the following day. They said their goodbyes, and Yakov slumped against the counter, finally feeling tired after dealing with Victor’s child all day. He retreated to the bedroom, and fell asleep mentally preparing for the following day.


	2. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov spends another day babysitting

The morning sun, usually blocked by heavy blackout curtains, was shining right in his face as Yakov awoke. He groaned and opened his eyes slowly, only to see two big brown eyes staring back at him, inches from his face. Yakov jerked his body away from the edge of the bed, hitting his head on the headboard and getting tangled up in the sheets. Aiko’s tinkling laughter mingled with his pained groans, then faded away as she ran out of the room. Holding his head, Yakov sat up and glanced at the digital clock by the bed. It read 6:47, earlier than he would have liked to be up on a Sunday, but nowhere near the worst, remembering several rude wakeup calls when Makkachin still lived under his roof.

He dragged his protesting body from the bed and went to prepare breakfast. Staring into the barren fridge he was reminded yet again that they would need to make a grocery run that day. For the meantime, a granola bar and the last of the juice could tide her over. When Yakov was younger he had existed solely on coffee in the morning, and he would just have to live with it again. When their respective meals were prepared he called Aiko in. Unfortunately, the previous night there was no time to clean up the guest room as Aiko was asleep, and as a result she was covered in a healthy layer of shimmery dust. The little girl clearly didn’t mind, but Yakov would have to intervene before he went blind from looking at her.

While Aiko ate, Yakov searched the clutter on his desk, eventually coming up with the detailed schedule Yuuri had given him. Skimming the itinerary for Sunday, he concluded the appropriate activity to partake in was a visit to the park, then grocery shopping on the way back to the apartment. Back in the kitchen, Aiko had cleaned her cup and thrown away the bar wrapper, and was making a silent retreat to her room where her dolls were reenacting a dramatic scene from her favorite movie, involving a crane machine and near-certain death. Yura would have been proud. Unfortunately, Yakov stepped out of his office as she approached.

“Today we will go to the park, but first you will take a bath.” It was more an order than a suggestion.

“I don’t need a bath” the little girl insisted, not a morning person despite being an early riser. She tried to push past him, but Yakov was having none of it. Trying to avoid touching the shimmering child, he countered, “You’re covered in sparkles. How else do you propose to remove them?”

“Uncle Phichit thinks sparkles are fancy, and he knows everything! And my dads think I’m cute in sparkles!”

Yakov was suddenly very glad he did not make many house calls to the Katsuki-Nikiforov residence, “If you won’t take a bath I will not take you to the park.” Aiko took a moment to weigh the benefits and drawbacks, then resigned to her fate.

She bounced past Yakov all smiles and laughing, demanding Yakov fill the tub quickly. It was quite the contrast to the determined negotiator that had faced him down, Yakov noted, a skill she probably picked up from years of watching her parents deal with the press. He followed her into the guest bathroom and set her up with towel and soap. Confident she could handle herself, he went out to formulate a grocery list.

He shuffled between cupboards and refrigerator, and planned the meals for the upcoming week. Judging by the songs he heard echoing down the hall, Aiko was doing just fine. However, young kids should only be left alone for so long before getting into trouble, and being raised by the two most extra skaters to ever touch the ice, Yakov was far too trusting. Eventually he decided to go and see why a simple bath was taking so long, and knocked on the door before entering.

The giggling cut off abruptly. Apparently, everything was not fine. Aiko must have found the bubble bath, left over from one of Mila’s visits, and the foam was nearly overflowing. But it wasn’t normal foam, no, it was sparkly foam. Because the bath didn’t work. It just redeposited the fine glitter among the water and, unfortunately, the foam. Though, he had to admit he only had himself to blame, and Aiko was considerably less sparkly than before. “This was a mistake. Bath time is over-” a clump of sparkling bubbles hit him square in the jaw, flung by the little troublemaker, glitter immediately clinging to his skin “-get out and open the drain.” With minimal pouting, Aiko emerged from the bubbly mountain, opening the drain on her way out.

Yakov detached the showerhead and gradually washed the mess down the drain, apart from the heavy coating of sparkles refusing to detach from the tub. Vowing to come back to it later, he moved on to the guest room and vacuumed up as much of the offending glitter as he could. By the time he finished, Aiko had donned a blue jumper and was tugging on her shoes, impatient to get to the park. Yakov swiped the grocery list off the counter and caught a glimpse of his sparkly reflection in the coffee maker. He flipped on the sink and scrubbed furiously at the glitter, removing as much as he could, then grabbed a scarf to cover whatever remained on his chin, now red from scrubbing. Satisfied with the situation, he swept out the door and to the car, making sure her seatbelt was secured before entering Sunday morning traffic.

The park was not very far from Yakov’s apartment, but they took the car in order to bring back groceries at the end of the day. The late morning sun shone through the trees, lighting up the paths crisscrossing the park grounds. The fountain in the center shimmered as water cascaded neatly into the base, while little children running here and there. Dogs chased balls in the grass or followed their owners around the well-manicured paths. The scene was all too cheery for Yakov, who promptly situated himself on a park bench and pulled out an old newspaper, leaving Aiko to her own devices amongst the other children.

“My only condition is that you remain in view of the fountain. I don’t want to have to explain to your parents that you went missing at the park” he warned.

Aiko wasn’t fazed, “Ok, I’m going to go pet the puppies!” she squealed and ran off.

Drowning out the screams of mirth coming from the children around him, Yakov returned to his plans for the new season. One of his skaters had chosen the theme of energy, and as expected, the piece chosen for the free skate was fast and upbeat. Yakov’s job was to create a challenging yet possible routine. The skater was proving more difficult than even Georgi had been, and Yakov’s patience was wearing thin with how many times he had to change aspects of the routines. He made significant progress that day though, occasionally interrupted by Aiko showing him a fascinating bug or leaf she found. Her collection sat in an ever-growing pile by his side.

Eventually, when the sun had moved to the middle of the sky and his bench was no longer in the shade, Yakov determined they had been at the park long enough. He gathered his notes, shook off some debris that fell from the trees, and waved Aiko over. She had been making acquaintance with a giant fluffy white dog and its owner, but when he called Aiko jumped up and ran to him, enthusiastically babbling about what a good puppy it was. Yakov restricted her to bringing home only two of the items in her collection, and she walked away from the park bench with a bark chip shaped like a heart and a half-decayed maple leaf held tight to her chest.

They went out to eat at a little café near the grocery store, opting to wait out the lunch-time shopping rush. While they ate their sandwiches, Aiko filled him in on the details of a game she played with two other children at the park, involving the convoluted ever-changing rules that only children could come up with. Yakov, in return, described to her the latest changes to a program, Aiko pretending to know what the skating terms meant. He showed her the concept art for a few costumes. and ever the critic, noted that the costumes were all severely lacking in glitter and made Yakov promise to bring it up with the designer.

The grocery store was relatively empty by the time they got there, and Yakov had no trouble finding the items on his list. Aiko opted to walk along next to the cart, and attempted to sneak in several of her own items, attempt being the key word (Vitya used to try all the same strategies, and after one sugar-fueled night from hell, Yakov would never fall for them again). However, when fixed with her determined glare, they did compromise on one bag of chips. They checked out and headed back to the car, Yakov hauling the several bags into the trunk. With the heat of the day settling in around them, they decided to head back to the apartment until dinner time.

It only took three loads to haul in all the groceries, and Yakov switched on the television while he put away the food they purchased. He always left the news channel on, but when he returned Aiko had found some reruns of a show with a young child surrounded by terrifying puppets, namely a large yellow and red thing that looked like it hadn’t slept in days. The thing’s name sounded like a bad shot at a drug-related pun, but with a little phone research he concluded it was just due to poor planning. He sat down on the couch, fascinated that such a terrible show would exist, and that the main characters didn’t frighten away every child viewer to see it. But Aiko seemed to enjoy it, so he sat back and tried to figure out what was going on.

He didn’t realize he had dozed off until Aiko woke him up, cautiously poking at his cheek. When his eyes flicked open she jumped down and put on her biggest doe-eyes, “Come play dress-up with me!”

Yakov groaned and ran a hand over his face and regarded the girl skeptically, “You can go play on your own. I will start cooking dinner in a little while.” He got up and turned towards the kitchen, but felt a slight tugging at his hand. Aiko was stubborn, he’d give her that.

“Come on! Just for a few minutes!” She put her whole weight against him, pulling towards the hall, and Yakov felt his resolve crumbling. Arguing with any of the Katsuki-Nikiforov family had never proven fruitful for him, and Aiko was no exception. And then she went and made it personal. “You can be the assistant and I will be the princess, since you’re too old to be the princess.”

The only way that his skaters were aware Yakov ever got any older was the slow and steady disappearance of his hair (at least, until Victor that is), and it had quickly become a touchy subject (Vitya took advantage of this any chance he got). Therefore, a spark lit in him at the implication of age, and found himself declaring, to his great dismay, “I will make the prettiest damn princess you have ever seen. I am nobody’s assistant.” He didn’t see Aiko grinning triumphantly behind his back.

About an hour later the two of them sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner in their new fashions. Aiko was sporting a bright orange top with a fuchsia blanket creatively twisted around her body to act as a skirt (or a dress, it was really unclear). Yakov had gone with one of his nicer suits, but arranged a deep red sheet to flow from the waistbands of his pants down to the ground. It looked like he had jumped out of bed and somehow got all of his sheets stuck in his belt. Both thought they looked regal. Aiko agreed that he had made a good princess after all, and Yakov realized she probably planned this all along, but despite him being a Serious Adult, Yakov found himself enjoying the game.

After clearing the dishes Yakov put on a movie and opened their bag of chips to celebrate a well-spent day. Before getting ready for bed they called up Aiko’s parents to say goodnight, and the little girl spent half an hour talking about their adventures. Yakov cut her off just before the dress up game though (Vitya could never know. All his skaters would find out and Yuri would never take him seriously again), and informed Victor and Yuuri that they would meet them at the ice rink at noon the next day.

In the guest room, Aiko jumped into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Yakov went to turn off the lights, when the little bundle of blankets squeaked, “will you read me a story? We always read before bed at home.” Yakov sighed. What was the harm in reading a book? He returned to Aiko’s bed and sat down on the edge. The little girl had already taken a stack of books out of her bag and they sat on the nightstand. She had brought a good selection, among them classics such as Good Night Gorilla and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. He fixed his gaze back on Aiko, getting comfortable beneath the sheets.

“Which one would you like me to read?”

The little girl shrugged and rubbed at an eye, “All of them?”

Yakov knew, from the exhausted look on the young girl’s face, that she would make it through only one or two books before falling asleep, so he picked one at random and began, “More than anything else in the world, Angelina loved to dance…”

Three books later Yakov closed the door to the sleeping girl’s room, whispering good night. He returned to the kitchen to finish doing the dishes from dinner, then went to his own bedroom to sleep. Staring in the mirror, Yakov found himself reflecting on the weekend. It had been nothing like he expected, and that wasn’t a bad thing. Glancing at the drawing from the restaurant the previous night, he was surprised to feel a pang of sadness at having their weekend together end the following morning. Aiko had really grown on him. He shut off the lights and fell asleep, thinking of ballerinas and giant yellow puppets on drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, Thank you all for reading this and I am astounded! at the response from you guys! I never expected people to actually be interested in reading this? so thanks again for reading.  
> sorry it took over a week to get this updated, but i'm in the midst of finals week. Almost done though!  
> I updated the chapter count to 3, and the last chapter should be relatively short. I will try to get it up before the weekend, but I have a lot on my plate this week so it may be another week again. But hopefully not!  
> I tried to base the park off of Aleksandrovski' Sad, but alas it is fiction and I was working off of google images.


	3. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their last day together

Yakov had been the first up that morning, his week day timer set for 5:30, leaving just enough time to eat breakfast and get to the rink before his students would arrive. He had prepared some toast and poured out cups of juice and coffee, then went to wake Aiko. After the girl had dressed for the day she came out to the kitchen where she now sat, filling in a page from a coloring book. Yakov quietly observed her over the rim of his coffee cup. The knowledge that he would be sitting here alone yet again the following day saddened him. No matter how gruff Yakov acted, he always hated the transition to living alone once guests left. He threw back his head and downed the rest of his drink before he could fall down that rabbit hole of feelings. 

When the clock read 6:00 they retreated to Aiko’s room to pack up the remaining objects around the room. Aiko was still sleepy, not used to rising so early, and as such Yakov did most of the packing while she colored on the bed. The little girl was quiet, and seemed to have something on her mind. With everything packed back in the bag they came in, the mess left by the girl was reduced to a few stray streamers and odd patches of sparkles where surfaces had been uncovered during the glitter storm. The overstuffed bags sat by the door, slightly lighter than when they arrived and ready to be carried to the trunk (Yakov had managed to sneak a few additional fashion wrecks into the hall closet to be destroyed later).

As they stepped out the door at 6:45 Aiko looked up with a cautious look in her eyes and finally spoke her mind, “Uncle Yakov can my dads and I visit you?”

Yakov was mildly caught off guard, paused for a moment, then replied, “Trying to humor an old man?”

She giggled and squeezed his hand, “Of course not! You’re not mean like my dad said and I want to show you my favorite park!”

Yakov felt his heart melt a little at her, climbing into the back seat and strapping herself in, “I don’t see why not. I will plan something with your parents when they’ve settled back in.”

They listened to old jazz songs on the way to the rink, Aiko making up words to the songs that came on. They parked in the garage and Yakov grabbed some things to occupy the girl until her parents arrived. The rink was cold inside, and he helped Aiko into a warm sweater and hat, then pulled on his own work trench coat and special rink fedora (special-ordered gift from his skaters, lined with fleece so his head would remain warm despite the chill) before situating her on the bleachers and going off to yell at his skating team.

He sent them off to warm up, doing laps and stretching, and reviewed his plan for the day. The assignments for the season would be out soon, and in case they would be assigned to the first competitions, the skaters would be drilling their programs for each other to get peer critique. He looked over at Aiko, furiously scribbling away at some homework she brought, and returned his attention to the skaters now filing onto the rink.

Halfway through one of the routines there was a slight tug at the hem of his trench coat. He looked down to see Aiko pulling at it, glaring up at him, “Lift me up, I want to see” she ordered.

He complied, and sat her down on the top of the wall surrounding the ice. As the program came to an end he started dissecting the performance and making a list of changes for the program, then opened it up for the other skaters to provide their output. A small tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to the girl sitting on the wall.

What is it now? You asked to sit up there,”

“He’s not making the skating pretty enough. It needs to be…” she screwed her face up with frustration at not being able to find the right words, “He needs to be like ice but right now it looks like he’s skating on the sidewalk” she nodded fiercely, then looked back at the ice where the skater was running through sections of the piece without music.

Yakov observed the skater’s movements, thinking about Aiko’s comments. He saw what she meant, they were putting too much thought into the technical aspects. While that was fine now, while still learning the program, it wouldn’t be enough in competition, and he told the skater as much. For the rest of the morning session he probed Aiko for her input on the programs until they were released for lunch break. They ate their lunches on a bench outside in the sun, waiting for Victor and Yuuri to show up. They had called Yakov to inform they were on their way to the rink.

Seven minutes before practice started again a bright pink car rolled up and parked by the rink. The two passengers stepped out and Aiko raced over and jumped into the outstretched arms of Yuuri. Victor swept them up into a big group hug, placing little kisses all over Aiko’s face while she giggled and tried to push him away. Yakov watched the family, almost smiling at the sight. He turned towards the car to retrieve the bags from the trunk. Aiko was telling Vitya about what they had done that weekend and Yuuri was approaching him and the small pile of luggage.

“Yakov, thank you so much for taking care of Aiko while we were away. I don’t know what we would have done without you!”

Yakov looked over at the little girl still chatting with her dad, and trying to hide his emotions, “It was no problem at all. She’s a good kid.” Yuuri smiled knowingly at him and grabbed the suitcase.

They hauled the bags into the trunk of Victor’s car and put the car seat back in its rightful place. At last the time had come to part ways. Yuuri and Aiko would return home while Yakov and Victor coached the skaters for the afternoon. Victor promised Aiko he would be home in no time at all. Aiko skipped to the car, but before getting in she turned and ran over to him. He knelt down to say goodbye, but she flung her arms around his neck, placing a little kiss on his cheek.

“Bye uncle Yakov, don’t forget to visit!”

“Alright child, I’ll see what I can do,” she smiled up at him, “If you ever want to come help coach again you’re always welcome at the rink.”

Aiko nodded at him then ran back to the car where Yuuri was waiting. Yakov waved goodbye until the car was out of view, then turned back to the rink where all his skaters were not-so-subtlety watching his display of emotions with various arrays of disbelief. Pasting a scowl back on his face he yelled, “Get back inside! Those medals aren’t going to win themselves!”. 

That evening, as he cleaned up the last of the mess in the guest room he found a scrap of paper under the bed. It was a picture of them at the park this time, the two vaguely-human-shaped figures petting what must be a dog. He hung it up on the wall next to the others and smiled at the small display. The weekend had not been as bad as he expected, not bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry it's so late, life happened and I didn't have time to write.  
> Also, I am really sorry this whole story turned into a 1-in-the-morning-word-vomit type thing and I suck at ending stories, but I promise the next piece I'm working on is actually planned out and less random.  
> Thank you all for reading this story and for all the kudos and bookmarks! I honestly didn't expect so many people to read this so thanks again! I hope all of you have enjoyed this at least a little.

**Author's Note:**

> *I could not find a list of their drinks available, and I don't know much about alcohol. If you have any suggestions, let me know and i'll fix that.  
> If my first attempt at embedding links works, the clothes references are here:  
> [Top](http://www.childrensplace.com/shop/us/p/girls-clothing/girls-tops-girls-shirts/girls-tops-girls-shirts-sweaters/Girls-Long-Sleeve-Faux-Layered-Sweater-2043059-IV)  
> [Bottom](http://www.childrensplace.com/shop/us/p/girls-clothing/girls-clothing-school-uniforms/girls-clothing-school-uniforms-bottoms/Girls-Uniform-Basic-Pants-2043302-01)
> 
>  
> 
> [the inspiration for the dress (though Aiko is older than this girl)](http://www.mytutuboutique.com/i_2347/A-Touch-of-Heaven-Feather-Tutu.htm)


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